Bare
by Kate Christie
Summary: Why the long look during the eulogy? What made Castle finally admit his feelings? Yes, it was 7 months ago, but it could have happened this way. Missing scene from season 3 finale. Caskett angst, fluff, & smut, not necessarily in that order.
1. Chapter 1

Bare

Rating: K

I own nothing. I am quoting Marlowe et. al. from the season 3 finale in part 1.

**A/N: Why the long, meaningful glance at the funeral? Why the long-awaited admission? Missing scene from the season 3 finale. Part one of five. It just doesn't fit that they didn't have some personal interaction between the hangar and the graveyard.  
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Ryan and Esposito rose first, Castle taking his cue and rising too. Ryan tried and failed to inconspicuously wipe the moisture from his cheeks.

"See you tomorrow, Beckett," Esposito's voice was rough and missing his usual bravado.

As the detectives crossed to her door, Castle hung back slightly and brushed her elbow with his fingertips. She spun to face him, but she wouldn't meet his eyes.

He spoke softly, so his voice hardly carried beyond her ears.

"If you need anything, if there's anything I can do, please, Kate…"

"Actually, there is something. Stay for a minute?"

He couldn't hear her words to Ryan and Esposito as she let them out and locked the door.

Castle stood where she had left him, in her living room, shoulders slumped, eyes on the floor. Kate didn't try to engage him as she crossed through the room. Her voice was a tight, subdued imitation of normal.

"I have to speak tomorrow. I wrote some notes this morning. I would really appreciate it if you'd take a look. Tell me what you think?" Beckett disappeared into her bedroom and returned with a spiral notebook. "Sorry about the handwriting. I didn't have time to type them up yet."

"Kate, I'd be honored." He looked at her, tried to draw her eyes, but she was studiously avoiding him.

He gave up, took the offered notes and sat back down on the couch. She hovered behind him for a moment, but then he heard her footfalls walking toward the kitchen. As he read the notes, written with blue ink in her looping hand, he was struck by her honesty and the admiration that flowed so easily off the page. Admiration for a man who had been at the root of the greatest tragedy of her life. He was amazed still at the absolution she had offered so quickly the night before. Somehow the sin for which their captain died was not the lasting impression Montgomery's life had made on hers. One passage near the end of the eulogy was more appropriate than anything he could have written, even at his most inspired:

Roy Montgomery taught me what it meant to be a cop. He taught me that we are bound by our choices, but we are more than our mistakes. Captain Montgomery once said to me that for us there is no victory; there are only battles. And in the end, the best you can hope for is to find a place to make your stand. Our captain would want us to carry on the fight.

He closed the notebook and crossed to find her. She sat at her kitchen counter, staring at her hands folded in front of her. He had never seen her look so defeated. He placed the notes next to her hands and placed a palm between her shoulder blades.

"This is beautiful. I wouldn't change a thing."

She seemed to wake a bit from her trance with his words and his touch. She turned her face toward him, though she didn't actually look at him.

"Thanks, Castle. Words just don't come all that easily to me. I never know when what I say is too much, not enough..." She slid off the barstool, shrugging out from under his hand, and walked toward her living room. She paused halfway there. "There's one more thing, actually, if you have time."

"Today, I am at your disposal, Detective. I saw Mother and Alexis this morning. They know I have things to do today. They told me to tell you they're thinking of you and they'll be there tomorrow."

She resumed her course to a cabinet across the room and scanned the contents. She selected an unopened bottle of amber liquid and turned to show it to him. The sun had peaked through the gray clouds just in time to set, and a beam of light illuminated her face as she met his eyes for the first time since the hanger the night before.

"Roy gave this to me the day I solved my first case, right after I made detective. He told me I should have something nice to celebrate with. I've never even opened it. Never thought an occasion really warranted it. But now… now I think he would like it if I shared it with you."

"I would love to toast Roy."

Castle took the bottle from her to inspect the label, and his eyebrows rose.

"How do you take your Scotch?"

"This stuff? This stuff I'll take neat. He wasn't kidding when he said 'something nice.'"

"Well, maybe not prohibition hidden basement vault quality, but it's better than anything I've ever bought for myself." Just a hint of a smile quirked at one corner of her mouth when she mentioned their case at the Old Haunt.

She grabbed two glasses from the kitchen and joined him on the couch.

"I think you should do the honors, Kate."

She took the bottle, twisted off the top and poured two fingers for each of them, then raised her glass in his direction.

"To celebrating life."

"And to friends, past and present."

They clinked the double-old-fashioneds and sipped in silence for a moment. He wished he could see inside her head right now. He was so used to finishing her sentences, and now he was simply at a loss.

She was looking down into her glass, swirling its contents, when she spoke again.

"I broke up with Josh."

"What? Oh. When? I mean, never mind." He shook his head slightly. "That's none of my business… I'm sorry." He had no idea what suddenly prompted her to reveal this long-awaited piece of news. Though his heart leapt, he tried to mute his burst of happiness. He had no right to think this had anything to do with him. Besides, she wasn't meeting his eyes again.

"The day after we got back from LA."

"Oh." That had to mean something. Eloquence had apparently left him, though.

"That letter from Royce, he gave me some advice. It rang true, all of a sudden. What I've been doing, and not doing, with my life since my mom died. You were right." She said it in a very matter-of-fact tone, as though it should be obvious to what she was referring. He was still processing the fact that she was talking about Josh, and Royce, and her mom, things she rarely discussed even with him.

"About what?"

"About what you said the other night. About us never talking. About almost dying together twice in a couple of days. About an amazing kiss in the absolute worst circumstances."

She paused to take a sip of her drink and shifted her gaze to the window.

Had she just admitted she thought the kiss was amazing? He took a long drink in order to keep himself from saying something that might break her concentration. Thankfully she continued.

"About how, despite my ability to shut out everyone who ought to matter to me, you have managed to insert yourself into my life. About how you just keep chipping away at the walls, like they don't even apply to you."

She turned to look at him then with eyes that were fear and frustration and sadness and something else he couldn't really identify.

"I think I just figured that if I never let anyone in, then it wouldn't hurt so much if I lost them. But with Royce, and then with Montgomery, it just didn't help." She blinked hard and shifted her gaze back to the window. "It still hurts like hell. And I'm left sitting here, thinking that I spent so many years keeping them at arm's length for nothing. I stopped feeling good just so I wouldn't feel bad. And now it turns out it doesn't work like that."

She finished her scotch and placed the glass heavily on the table, closing her eyes. He saw one tear escape anyway. He set his glass next to hers. He wanted to touch her, hold her hand, wrap his arms around her, let her know that the tears were OK. But he was terrified of breaking this spell that had her talking to him.

She let out a long breath, opened her eyes, and turned to face him again.

"Rick, I didn't want to talk to you, because then I would have been admitting how much all those things that happened between us mattered to me. How much you matter to me."

He couldn't take it any longer. He reached out and covered her hand with his. She started to slide her hand out from under, and he thought he had acted too soon, but instead of pulling back, she laced her fingers with his. His heart swelled, and his words returned.

"Kate, you know how much you matter to me. I'm here, however you need, or want, me to be—I want whatever part of yourself you're willing to share. I just don't want you to be alone."

"That's just it. I'm terrified of being anything _but_ alone. I'm terrified of wanting more. But I'm so tired. I'm tired, and I'm sad, and sometimes the weight of keeping it all to myself is just too much."

She squeezed her eyes shut and a few more tears escaped. He reached for her other hand and she gripped it like a lifeline.

"It's OK. I'm here. Let me help."

She let out a tiny sob and leaned into his chest, her head resting against his neck. He let go of her hands and held her tightly to him.

He was crying too, now, as he whispered soft words of comfort in her ear. He buried his nose in her hair.

"We're going to be OK. We'll figure all of this out. We'll find the person who took your mom and Roy. I promise."

Her breathing finally evened out, and she let go of the tight grip she had on the front of his shirt. She smoothed out the fabric but didn't move to pull away from him. She cleared her throat and took a breath.

"I want more, Rick." Her voice was even, calm. "I'm so tired of having pieces of a whole life."

His hands were stroking up and down her back, and he felt her words reverberate through her ribcage.

"You can have whatever you want, Kate. Say the word and you can have anything I can give you."

She did pull back then, and he saw determination in her red-rimmed eyes as they looked up into his.

"I want everything."


	2. Chapter 2

**Bare**

**Part 2/5**

**Rated T**

**A/N: This is a continuation of a missing scene from the season 3 finale.**** Castle and company are not mine. I would have more fun with them if they were…**

Previously: In the wake of the murder of Captain Montgomery and her former partner, Royce, Kate admitted that she holds people at arm's length. Castle said to stop that, silly. So she did.

The look on his face could only have been shock. She didn't blame him, really. Nothing she had said or done in the past 3 years would have suggested that she would suddenly shift her priorities so decisively. But what he didn't know is how long she had been convincing herself not to say what she had said to him tonight. The urge to wake him on the airplane back to New York from LA and just let her feelings spill out, other passengers be damned, was almost overwhelming. It took the emotional upheaval of the past 24 hours to finally tip the scales from her head to her heart. She wanted him. She wanted them. And she didn't see the logic in pushing him away anymore. Not when either of them could die tomorrow.

"I… Kate… this is… are you saying…"

"Castle, you just do not know when to shut up," she smiled just enough to let him know she was teasing.

"Can I… kiss you now?" God, he looked terrified. She wasn't sure he was breathing.

She leaned in to press her lips lightly to his. The warmth of that contact sparked a chill at the base of her neck that spread until the tips of her ears and fingers and toes were all tingling. He pulled back ever so slightly, breaking the contact, but he was still close enough that his breath was warm against her lips. She opened her eyes to see his so blue and dark and close-he was waiting for her, she realized.

She framed his face with her hands and pulled him down to her, hopefully leaving no doubt in his mind about what she wanted. He moved his lips over hers with the unhurried purpose of exploration. When she trailed her tongue across his lower lip, he let out a little moan from the back of his throat and opened to her to deepen the kiss. His hands were suddenly everywhere—her shoulders, the small of her back, the nape of her neck, tangled in her hair. And everywhere he touched turned to simmering heat. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hoped that the noise she just heard herself make sounded less desperate than it had to her ears.

God she wanted to crawl inside of him and never come out.

It was Rick that inched back the intensity, gentling his lips on her own until they finally they parted, their breathing ragged.

"Wow." He breathed it more than said it. She opened her eyes to find his still closed. When he finally did open them, he bent his forehead to hers. "Please tell me that I didn't just dream that."

She chuckled lightly.

"I hope not. Because then we're having the same dream, and I don't really want to be involved in one of your crazy sci-fi alien theories. I'd rather just keep kissing you."

She hoped her voice sounded steady; she knew the rest of her wasn't.

"God, Kate, I'm shaking." He pulled her into his chest and took a shuddering breath.

"That's ok, so am I." She could hear his heart pounding against her ear and wondered if he could hear hers doing the same.

"Is this too fast? I mean, with everything that's happened, I don't want this to be something you regret tomorrow, or a week from now, or ever, for that matter."

"Rick, three years is _not_ too fast."

"True." She felt him let out a slow breath and loosen his hold on her slightly. "I just couldn't stand it if I screwed this up." He sounded so timid, almost defeated. "I want this to be real. I want us to be real. Not just two friends comforting each other for a night."

She pulled away and took his face in her hands again. The worry creasing his brow made her heart melt.

"What part of 'everything' are you having trouble understanding?"

Slowly a small grin spread across his lips and finally she saw the twinkle return to his eyes. He took her hands and sandwiched them between his.

"Well, OK then. How about some Chinese for dinner?"

She actually let out a real laugh.

It was like the flip of a switch. This was her Rick—the self-assured optimist with his glass half full. When exactly had he become "her Rick," again?

"You really do have the attention span of a kindergartener."

"And I'm just as adorable." He pulled her hands to his lips and kissed her fingertips. And just like that, they were back to themselves again.

He stood and walked to the kitchen where he had left his phone.

"If you're not hungry, that's fine, but we haven't eaten all day, and I'm suddenly starving."

"Sure Castle, I could eat. There are some menus in the drawer right there." She pointed to one near where he was standing.

"That's ok, I've got it covered. Chen's is your favorite, right?"

"Why am I even surprised that you know which Chinese takeout place in my neighborhood is my favorite?" She smiled slightly to herself.

"And I have their number already in my phone."

He held up one finger to shush her as he placed their order in Chinese. When he clicked off, he disappeared into her kitchen and returned with a bottle of wine.

"Not that the Scotch isn't fantastic, but this goes better with Kung Pao." He brought two glasses and her wine opener over to the coffee table along with the bottle. How did he find all that stuff so fast? The man had amazing attention to detail.

He uncorked and poured their Malbec and handed her a glass. He reached around her shoulders to pull her against his chest as he sat back. His subtle statement of "mine" was not lost on her.

He held up his glass for another toast.

"To what dreams may come."

They tapped glasses with a smile this time and each took a sip.

"Pulling out Shakespeare on me, huh, Castle?"

"Well, I was hoping you wouldn't think I was referring to that movie from the 90's." He looked into his wine glass and swirled. "This is good. Did I bring this over here?"

"Probably. But really, you doubt my literary skills? You forget I started out a literature major in college."

"I would never doubt any of your skills, Kate. I like all my body parts right where they are, thank you."

It felt so good just to lean her head against his shoulder. To forget everything else, even for a little while, and be normal. Why had she shut him out for so long? They were still them. Friends. Partners. They could still joke and talk and harass each other as much as they had last week or last year. They could just do it while drinking wine, snuggled up on her couch, waiting for Chinese food.

The downstairs buzzer sounded and shook her from her reverie. Castle had already unwound himself from her and was at the door by the time she thought to comment.

"That was fast."

When he had tipped the kid and re-bolted the door, he spun to face her and asked in his Derek Storm meets Alex Trebek murder mystery voice:

"Plates? No plates?"

"No plates. Don't want to do dishes."

While he opened paper boxes and pulled out chopsticks, she rose in search of music. She tuned her ipod to her classic rock playlist. CCR came on, and she guessed that would do.

They ate in comfortable silence. Not the awkward silence of the first date that she supposed this really was. Not the silence of complacency in a relationship gone stale, which she knew this was not. It was just the silence of knowing everything that they needed to about one another, at least for the moment. She stole his Kung Pao shrimp. He grabbed straw mushrooms from her beef with oyster sauce. In between, he made an "attack duck" aiming at her nose with his chopsticks, quacking like that stupid insurance commercial as he advanced on her. Nothing had changed. But everything had changed.

When leftovers were in the fridge and the wine was half-gone, he refilled her glass and turned to her with a serious look.

"Do you want me to stay?"

She looked at him through her lashes.

"If I keep repeating myself, I'm going to sound like a broken record. So I won't. Yes, Rick, I want you to stay. With me, in my bed, tonight, all night."


	3. Chapter 3

She didn't even have time to take a breath before he dropped to his knees directly in front of her and pulled her into a searing kiss. Somewhere in the thinking part of her brain, she heard herself comment that he sure wasn't waiting for _her_ this time… But that part of her brain shut off as he slipped his tongue between her lips.

Again, it was as if something had snapped inside him, as though she had given him permission to take this step, and he wasn't going to give her a chance to change her mind. The speed and the force of it all made her feel giddy, a little out of control. She'd almost forgotten how good it felt to give up her control to someone she trusted.

One of his hands twined into her hair, tugging with just a little more force than was comfortable. His tongue was exploring her mouth insistently but unobtrusively, as if trying to learn it, memorize its taste and texture. His other hand gripped her thigh, slowly sliding its way up to her hip, finally reaching around her waist to pull her forward and flush against him. Her legs, entirely without the permission of her brain, wrapped around him to pull him even tighter against her. She was immediately aware of his impressive state of arousal, and she felt warmth pooling at her core. He slid his hands to the hem of her shirt and made contact with skin just above her hipbones.

She felt alive, which was decidedly not what she had been feeling since leaving the hangar. And she felt something else. She couldn't quite put her finger on it: a heady mix of lust, and repressed feelings finally surfacing, and maybe just a little bit of happiness. That last one was a surprise. It shouldn't be part of her emotional vocabulary after what they had been through in the last 48 hours.

She gripped his shoulders, feeling his muscles flex under her hands. She needed to feel more of him. Right now. The need for air became overpowering, and their lips parted with an audible pop. She reached down and pulled her black turtleneck over her head, suddenly glad she had run out of sensible underwear that morning and worn one of her few frivolous lacy bras. She pinned him with what she hoped was a sultry look of invitation. As if he would need any more invitation that her current state of semi-dress.

Rick's eyes widened, but to his credit, they didn't stray immediately to her chest. She reached for the buttons on his midnight blue dress shirt and made quick work of removing it. She tugged his undershirt over his head, and as soon as his arms were free, he reached for her and pulled her tight against his chest. When skin met skin, she both felt and heard his rumbling growl and let out one of her own. He immediately directed his lips to the line of slender, taught muscles of her neck, and she tilted her head to allow him better access. He trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses down to her shoulder, then shifted to nuzzle just behind her ear. As he sucked the lobe into his mouth she couldn't suppress a gasp.

When he moved to her pulse point, nipping the tender skin lightly with his teeth, she made a low, throaty noise that might have been a moan. The sound seemed to spur him on to find other spots. He trailed his tongue along one side of her collarbone and dipped into the hollow at the center before nibbling across the other side. He fixed that talented mouth on her other ear, trailing the tip of his tongue along the sensitive shell and blowing his hot breath across the wet path.

"Rick…" she had never been one for breathy cries of pleasure during sex. Making out. Whatever this was. Why was she so completely overcome by kissing this man on her couch? It was as if he had a map—as if all that creepy staring while she was doing paperwork at her desk had somehow revealed to him every magical place on her body that would make her melt into a puddle of incoherent mush in his arms.

He hadn't said a word all this time, but when he finally pulled his lips from her skin for half a second to speak, his voice was gruff.

"Bed?"

"Definitely." Wow. She had produced four coherent, if breathy, syllables. And she just dove in to whatever their relationship was about to be.

He kissed her lips briefly, smacking noisily and smiling that 10,000-watter before he eased back slightly. She unwrapped her legs and he rose, holding out his hands to help her up from the couch. Good thing, too, since she was fairly sure her knees were going to give out as soon as she stood.

Sure enough, she pitched into his chest just a bit with a lightheaded rush, and he caught her against him. She giggled and dropped her forehead to his shoulder. She couldn't remember the last time she had giggled in the presence of a guy. Wait, when did Rick equal "guy" in her brain? Rick was "partner." Rick was "friend." They had just had a major fight trying to define what Rick was, exactly. What was it she finally decided?

Oh, well, right. She had decided he was leaving _that_ night. Not so much leaving now. Really not leaving now. He'd better not even _think_ about leaving. God she had been weak that night. Not admitting he was so much more than her friend, more than her words could describe. And worse than that, freaking out and kicking him out and then crying all night that he was gone.

"Did you just giggle, Detective Beckett?" He nuzzled against her neck, pulling her out of her flashback.

She hoped the lightness and the teasing came through in her voice.

"Rick, what the hell have you done to me? I'm a total mess. I can't even stand on my own feet."

"I wouldn't want to be accused of kissing you senseless and then leaving you helpless on your couch."

He sank down and hoisted her up over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, her butt in the air.

"Castle!" She was fairly sure that would qualify as a screech. Or maybe a squeal. She wasn't sure which was worse. "Put me down!" She punctuated her request by whacking him half-heartedly on his back with her fists.

He was already halfway to her bedroom.

"I will, very shortly."

"Castle, put me down _now_!" Unfortunately, she knew her voice had no semblance of her usual authoritative Beckett tone. Especially not when another giggle escaped as he ducked slightly to go through the bedroom door.

He walked to the side of her bed and turned to face away from it, then sat and flopped back on the mattress. She thankfully figured out what he was doing in time to avoid a full face plant, but she let out a very un-detective-like yelp as she hit the bed, and Rick laughed.

She wasted no time pouncing on him, with full intent to tickle him into submission for that little stunt. She had no idea if he was actually ticklish, but she had always just assumed he must be, and she wasn't disappointed.

"Kate! Unfair! Ack! Apples! Apples! Please!"

She paused in her assault and he took a deep breath.

"Do not. Ever. Pick me up and haul me around like a sack of potatoes again, Richard Castle."

And she tickled him again, eliciting a very girly yelp.

"Or else I will tickle you in the presence of Ryan and Esposito and let them hear you giggle like an 8-year-old girl!"

She let up enough to allow him to draw breath.

"Oh my god. I always knew you were evil." He was sucking in air, trying not to laugh. "Besides, I saw you more as a 'damsel in distress' than a 'sack of potatoes.' Ah!"

She had lit into him again with that last comment, pinning him to the mattress by straddling his hips.

"You are not doing yourself any favors here, Rick, comparing me to Cinderella and Snow White. Although I do know about your prior history with horses…"

He managed to get his hands around her wrists and wrest them away from his ribcage.

"For your information, that horse in Central Park was not white, nor was I in any condition to be saving anyone, especially myself, at the time…"

She had leaned down over him during his partial confession, and now they were nose-to-nose, her lips barely an inch from his. He lifted his head and closed the distance between them, pulling her lower lip between his teeth and suckling it slightly. A moan escaped the back of her throat, and in her moment of distraction, he reversed their positions, still gripping her wrists and pressing them to the mattress just above her head.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: M, really M, for both language and the obviously-adult situation.  
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He still had her lips locked as he pressed her into the bed with his thighs and hips and chest. Her eyes shot open as he flipped them, eyebrows raised. He wasn't sure if she was mad or impressed that he'd managed to out-maneuver her in her own bed. When he rolled his hips against her center, he felt as much as heard her moan. He let go of her wrists, resting his weight on his elbows, and twined his fingers with hers. She squeezed his hands and pushed her hips up to meet his, obviously content with their positions for the moment.

When she arched her back, pressing her breasts up into his chest, he suddenly needed his hands back. He reached around behind her back and unclasped her bra. She shrugged her shoulders and he dragged the straps free of her arms, tossing the very-unBeckett lingerie off the bed. Now he needed his lips back, too. He broke their kiss, and she whimpered. Kate Beckett, super-detective, bad-ass cop, just _whimpered_ while lying half-naked, pinned under him on her bed. He needed her to make that sound again, frequently, possibly multiple times a day.

As he looked down on her cheeks, pink with arousal, and her eyes, closed in concentration, he knew she was waiting to see what part of her he would explore next. But first he needed to look her in the eye, make sure this was real, make sure she realized what they were doing and what it meant. So he pulled back slightly, framed her face with his hands, and whispered her name.

"Kate…"

With what seemed like focused effort, she opened her lids, blinked once, and stared straight into his soul. Her pupils were dilated, darkening her hazel eyes to almost black. He must have been staring too long, because she smiled shyly.

"What?"

He hadn't broken eye contact because suddenly, he could see everything he needed to know. She wasn't running. She wasn't closed off. She was open and free and she was _his_.

"You're just so completely beautiful. Sorry, couldn't help staring, especially when I have you this close."

She blushed scarlet and her eyes darted to his left. Her neck and chest bloomed rosy pink right before him.

"Rick…" she sounded so shy and unsure of herself all of a sudden.

"What? You are. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Extraordinary. Don't tell me no one has ever told you that before."

"Sure, but the way you say it," she returned her gaze to his, "I think you actually believe it."

Where was all this insecurity coming from? Kate was the kind of woman who he imagined knew exactly how powerful her spell would be on any man, the kind who had men falling all over themselves to win her favor. Well, if she had never believed a single one of them, she was going to believe him now.

"Katherine Beckett, I would never, ever, lie to you, and I am telling you, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

"Now I really don't believe you. Not with your parade of starlets and supermodels."

"If my life depended on it, I couldn't tell you what a single one of them looked like. I haven't seen anyone but you when I close my eyes for, oh, almost three years now." He wasn't smiling. He wanted her to know this was no platitude. No joke. Not a line he used on the fangirls or the dates his publicist arranged.

"You're delusional." She made a half-hearted attempt to give him a withering look.

"No, I'm in… " He stopped himself for some reason before that four-letter word rolled off his tongue. It was true. Had been for longer than he could remember. But somehow he didn't think she could handle it at this moment, not with everything else.

"…bed with my brilliant, sexy, caring, dedicated, selfless, brave, honest, best friend. I'm ecstatic. I'm floored. I'm baffled by the fact that this is finally happening."

He ran his hands down her arms and up her sides, brushing his thumbs against the underside of her breasts and he felt her ribs expand under his hands as she drew in a breath.

"But I feel you warm and breathing and _here_, and I never knew you had a freckle right up under here…" He dipped his head to place an open-mouthed kiss against her ribcage between her breasts, eliciting a gasp. "…so I know I must not be dreaming." He slid his hands around her back to pull her ribcage up slightly toward him. Suddenly he was distracted from his diatribe. He hoped he'd said enough to let her know she was the single most captivating woman he had ever met, and that she was loved. He hoped she knew that even if she couldn't handle hearing the words.

He trailed his tongue along the crease beneath one breast, then nuzzled against its outer swell. When he took her pebbled nipple in his mouth, suckling without preamble, she cried out and threw her head back to pant. He released her with a slight pop, then gently stroked his tongue over the pinked peak before moving to her other breast to repeat the performance. God, she was responding with an intensity he had never dreamed possible. He could feel her heart pounding under her ribs. Her breaths were coming in shallow, quick gasps. Her fingers had laced into his hair, feathered over his shoulders and down the back of his neck.

His hands found the waistband of her pants and unfastened them, sliding them down her body to leave her in just her lacy underwear. Wow, either she had one serious premonition the last time she changed her clothes or it was laundry day. How often did she wear stuff like this to work? Things to contemplate when his brain was up for coherent thought again.

"You're wearing too many clothes." If he had thought she had a bedroom voice before, he was sadly mistaken. This was the bedroom voice. She sat up and unfastened his pants, leaving him in his decidedly unsexy gray cotton boxer-briefs. He hoped his obvious "enthusiasm" for their situation made up for his lack of romance-novel-worthy underwear. If the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth was any indication, she was willing to overlook fashion for function.

She reached out and palmed his length, sliding her warm hand up his shaft through the material. He had to grip her shoulders and shut his eyes to keep from thrusting into her grasp. He was so not going to last long at this rate…

She seemed to sense his battle for control and released him to scoot back on to the bed and pull down the covers.

He crawled up the length of her nearly-naked form, brushing his lips along her thighs, over her right hip, and up past her navel. She spread her legs to allow his hips to hover over her center. When she arched up to him he gave in to the urge to push her down into the mattress with his weight. He attached his lips to her neck, her shoulders, and finally her mouth. When he couldn't take any more teasing, he pulled away to sit back on his heels and catch one fingertip into either side of the waist of her underwear. He looked her in the eye as he slid the lace down slowly, revealing that final patch of ivory skin and dark curls. She drew her legs together to allow him to slip off her final barrier. She sat up slightly and reached to do the same for him. Once they were equally bare, she wrapped her fingers around his length and he couldn't help the jerk of hips into her hand.

"Kate…"

He slid up beside her, pressing as much of his skin against hers as he could. They ended up face to face, each propped up on an elbow, staring into each others' eyes as if not quite sure what to do next. He gripped her hipbone and pulled her pelvis flush against him. As if to one-up him, she slid her leg up and over his hip, using her calf and heel to pull his length flush with her core. That was when he realized that her "enthusiasm" likely rivaled his own. He devoured her mouth. His delved into the far back corners, swept across the roughness of her palate, nipped at her swollen lower lip. Her hand was busy tracing random patterns over his back and shoulders and biceps. She suddenly surged forward, rolling him beneath her and straddling his hips, never breaking contact in their kiss. As she slid her center along his length, he felt his control slipping. She pulled back from the kiss to meet his eyes. She adjusted her hips and aligned him with her entrance. He held his breath, silently praying that if this was a dream, he wouldn't wake up right now.

Kate sank slowly, and she inhaled sharply as his tip parted her folds. She could see he was struggling to remain perfectly still, to allow her full control of how this all began. As she lowered herself further, her eyes closed briefly and she caught her lower lip between her teeth. She exhaled and consciously relaxed her inner muscles slightly as she sank the final inches. When her pelvis met his hips, he couldn't hold back a tiny thrust up to meet her. She gasped as she felt him bottom out against the entrance to her womb. She was stretching almost to the point of pain, but he felt so amazing, putting delicious pressure on the sweet spot on her inner wall without even trying.

"Rick—God—so perfect."

She lowered herself until her breasts were pressed against his chest, until her nose, buried in the skin just below his ear, was flooded with his scent, and then she rocked ever so gently against him. He reached for her hips to pull her firmly down as he thrust up to meet her. She pulled back to see blue eyes, familiar, open and searching. They were so intense, so dark and serious, if she didn't know better she would think he was furious. As she undulated against him, she aligned herself to make perfect contact with his pelvis. At this rate, she was going to peak in about a minute and a half. The benefits of three years of foreplay—she couldn't help chuckling slightly. Rick's whole expression changed to a perplexed grin.

"What are you laughing at, Kate?"

"Just thinking that three years of innuendo apparently has me pretty revved up." She sounded breathy even to herself. "I'm really close, Rick."

"Or maybe I'm just that good?" he was grinning like an idiot and his eyes were twinkling up at her as he raised one eyebrow.

"Remind me to smack you for that later."

She ducked her head and kissed the spot where his neck met his shoulder.

"Mmmm. Only kidding, dear." She felt his lips brush her ear as he whispered, "Actually, _we're_ just that good. It figures we'd be just as in tune with this as we are with everything else."

She felt the beginnings of a tingle at the base of her spine and lost her ability to process speech. He must have cued in to the shift in her breathing, and he began thrusting harder up and into her.

She gasped and clung to him as the first wave hit her, warm and tight across her belly. She was not vocal in bed. Or at least, she never had been before. Now she wasn't sure she had any control over the desperate little cries that escaped as she panted in his ear. Her breath was coming so quickly she started to feel the room spin and made an effort to slow herself down.

"Kate, oh Kate."

His lips against her ear pulled her out of her haze and she pulled back to look down into his eyes again.

"Rick. I, that was, you…" she huffed out a breath and he chuckled slightly. "Wow. Your turn."

He smiled brilliantly up at her complete incoherence.

"Eloquent much?"

"Hey, my inability to speak should be a compliment... Do not make fun of me or else you won't get to be speechless later."

"But you don't really think I'm going to let you get away with only one, do you?"

"Oh God, I'm not sure – oh."

He had thrust up into her again, obviously undeterred by her attempt at declining his challenge.

"Thought so. Maybe I'll join you this time."

"Maybe? What the hell, Castle? Where did all this self control come from all of a sudden?"

He was continuing to rock his hips up and against hers, making it progressively more difficult to form coherent sentences.

"So it's back to 'Castle' now?"

"I can't help it when you're being frustrating."

"Seriously? This is frustrating? Seriously."

His hands gripped her hips and pulled her flush against him to illustrate his point.

"You had better go with me this time." As she curled her hips toward him, she couldn't deny that she was already primed for another round. She wasn't a prude by any stretch of the imagination, but she'd never been with someone who had made it his goal to see how many times he could send her over the edge-he angled his head up to find the spot on her neck that made her squirm and suckled-that was apparently Rick's plan at the moment.

_Fuck_.

She was close again. How did he do this to her?

He laughed a startled, belly laugh. She pulled away from her new favorite spot at the curve of his neck and pinned him with her eyes, hoping her complete mortification was not evident.

"Oh God, I said that out loud, didn't I?"

"It's OK, Kate, I think it's sexy that you talk dirty in bed."

"I do _not_ talk dirty in bed. Well, I guess until now. Fuck."

He chuckled again.

"Guess you just needed the right inspiration."

"And you're nothing if you're not inspiring, Rick."


	5. Chapter 5

Rick again took advantage of her moment of distraction and reversed their positions. Somehow in the process, limbs tangled with sheets, and they ended up half-mummified, giggling as they tried to extract themselves from the bedclothes without extracting themselves from each other. Rick finally gave up and broke their intimate connection in order to expedite their escape. Kate let out a little "oh" at his withdrawal and his eyes snapped back to hers to see her laughter fade to lust.

Once they had kicked the sheets to the end of the bed, he settled between her thighs, propping his weight on one elbow, and reaching up to trail his other hand along her shoulder, her collarbone, and up her neck. She shivered when he reached the angle of her jaw. His lips replaced his fingers at that spot, where he could feel her pulse pounding. He laved at the skin with his tongue, memorizing the sound of her breath catching and then escaping in a sigh. His fingers traveled back down her side and felt the tensing of her muscles as he passed the slight protrusion of her hipbone. He slid over the curve of her hip and down the back of her thigh, applying pressure behind her knee to raise her leg. As she wrapped it around his waist, he shifted his hips and entered her again with one firm stroke.

"Rick." It was a breath, not really a statement.

He otherwise remained still inside her, but his lips made their way to hers. His memory flashed to the previous night, when he had been pressed nearly this close to her, begging with whispered desperation for her to close those same lips, quiet her cries of anguish rather than her gasps of pleasure. The contrast of cradling her against that unyielding car rather than her soft, warm bed, crashed over him. Needing to erase that memory for both of them, he gently caressed her lips with his, just a whisper of a kiss at first, expanding and pulsing with want and need and love. As he deepened the kiss he continued to tug behind her knee to raise her leg higher, pressing her thigh to the bed against her side.

Her eyes widened at the shift of their angle and he broke the kiss to speak.

"Is this OK? I'm not hurting you?"

"No. Please…"

He blinked back the flash of another, silent "please," and began to move.

It started as just subtle shifting against her, but that motion drew a strangled moan from her lips and she threaded her fingers into his hair to pull his mouth back down to hers. He kept the pace slow at first but despite his earlier teasing, his control was reaching its limits. She was too warm and too tight and so sexy with the flush of arousal on her cheeks, and god he was making love with _Kate_, and without any of the physical aspects of their situation, that thought alone was enough to make him come undone.

She seemed to have lost her concentration for kissing, let her lips go slack against his and then pulled away and slightly to the side. He pressed his cheek to hers and bit his tongue to keep from telling her once and for all what he felt for her. So many emotions were warring: the love and the lust and the despair and the need to prove that they were both alive and the utter rightness of this. If he started whispering things against her skin, he might not be able to hold back. He knew anything he said now would stain. His intentions for a life beyond tonight, a forever together, would linger, tattooed on her flesh for her and the world to see. He would mark her with his words, and as much as he longed to make her his, he feared she would balk at that permanence. And the last thing he needed was to have her pull away from him before they found that forever. He didn't think his heart could handle it. So he settled for whispering her name into her ear, hoping that with time, she could accept his whole heart and give her own.

She had matched his pace until that moment, and then she seemed to become impatient, speeding up the movements of her hips up against his. He increased the force of his thrusts and synched with her rhythm.

As her back arched and her timing began to falter, he could hold back no longer.

He pulled back to look into her slightly unfocused eyes and she nodded slightly, her hands shifting to frame his face and fix his focus on her. It was as though she was making sure he saw exactly what he was doing to her.

He felt the first flutters of her climax as she whispered his name. Her eyes closed briefly, but she seemed to force them open to find his again. His restraint dissolved and he was pushing deeper and harder and finally pulsing, spilling his release inside her as she continued to clench around him. The force of his orgasm ripped through him and the power of their combined pleasure pulled a cry, more of a sob that might have been her name, from deep in his chest.

The thought that he probably shouldn't just collapse on top of her right now did cross his mind, but his body wasn't capable of reacting, so he collapsed anyway. She didn't seem to mind. She was stroking her hands up and down his back, alternately kneading his muscles with her long fingers and scratching his flesh lightly with her fingernails. She had hooked her leg back over his hip when he released his hold, and he settled some of his weight on his elbows, wrapping his hands behind her shoulder blades. He used seemingly his last ounce of strength to lift his head from her still-heaving chest. His body was shaking; he knew it must be the adrenaline, but nothing like it had ever happened to him before. She was watching him with a sated glow and a tiny curve to her lips. He pulled in breath after breath, trying to regain some control as she watched him.

"Kate." It came out so rough and strangled that he cleared his throat and waited a moment for his heart rate to drop down to a more reasonable flutter before he tried again.

"Kate, I swear if you laugh at me right now I'll never recover." She looked legitimately confused despite the fact that she was grinning already.

"Why would I laugh?"

"Because what I'm about to say could be the single biggest cliché, well maybe the second biggest cliché, for a ruggedly handsome and award-winning writer to come up with at this moment."

Her face had shifted to an expression he couldn't quite interpret. Love, yes, that was still there, and it had been all night, he now realized. But it was mixed with confusion, and maybe fear? Enough of that.

"I have _never_ felt anything like that with anyone before."

At that her eyes unclouded and her full, open-mouthed, unreserved smile graced her features. To her credit, she didn't laugh, but she did let out a breath she must have been holding. Her look was contagious, and he kissed the tip of her nose with a chuckle. She dialed down the smile and looked up at him through her lashes almost timidly.

"I'm really glad you said that, because I was pretty sure if _I _said it, you would feel obligated to say it back, even if was a lie…"

"Not a lie." He punctuated each word with a kiss to her nose, her cheek, her chin.

"Best. Sex. Ever."

Her smile returned, along with a decided twinkle in her eyes.

"I told you, you had no idea."

"And you were correct," he nodded. "Damn. Remind me again why it took us this long?"

He shifted his hips to separate them, turned onto his back and pulled her against his side. She tucked her nose in just under his collarbone and found his right hand with her left, intertwining their fingers. Her expression turned serious, her eyes sad.

"I think sometimes it takes hitting rock bottom to wake us up."

She spoke the words against his chest, and with them, the cloud of Montgomery settled over his heart again. He felt compelled to respond.

"Losing someone we love makes our own lives more precious."

And damn it, something good had come out of their loss. As twisted and terrible as it seemed, he had to credit Roy with the step they had taken tonight.

She was broken. So was he, he'd be the first to admit how messed up he was about relationships with women other than his mother and Alexis. But now at least Kate and he had the chance to heal together; to build up something stronger and greater than either could be alone.

He was tired of being alone inside his heart. He wanted someone to share the space with. Now he would get to stand beside her, not just as friend and partner, but as her other half. She had let him in, and he couldn't see how she would manage to push him away at this point.

She had faded out during his internal monologue; he thought she might even be falling asleep. But she roused from her daze to speak just above a whisper.

"I wish I'd had you around the last time."

Oh, he hadn't even thought of his words in that context. From everything he knew about her first great loss, she had shut everyone out, taken risks, lived dangerously. If anything, the loss of her mother had caused her to place less value on her own life. He hugged her tighter against his chest.

"I wish I had been there, too. But I'm here now. For whatever you need. I always will be."

A wave of exhaustion washed over him and he felt his lids drooping. After a few moments, she pulled away and turned toward her side of the bed. His heart dropped into his stomach thinking she was content to sleep outside the warmth of his arms, but she merely flicked off the bedside lamp, reached down for the covers, and returned to her former spot, snuggling into his side. He let out a sigh and placed a kiss on top of her head.

"Goodnight, Kate."

"Yeah, Rick, it really is." She settled her palm against his ribs just over his heart and sleep overtook them.

When he awoke, he was alone in her bed. It was still dark, but he could see a glow filtering in from the living room. He resisted the disappointment and fear creeping into his heart and rose. He slipped his underwear on and padded quietly out in search of her. He found her on her couch, laptop open on her bare thighs, notebook open on the cushion beside her. She had pulled on his button-down over her underwear, but she'd left most of the buttons undone, and the bluish light from the screen gave her face an ethereal glow. He couldn't help the quirk of his lips at this view of her, nearly naked except for his shirt. Eyes focused on what her fingers were typing, her brows were just slightly scrunched, giving her that adorable look of concentration. He'd seen it so many times at the precinct. Now this version would be forever burned into his brain.

"Stop staring Rick. I couldn't sleep. And I needed to type this up anyway." She hadn't moved; her eyes remained on the screen as she spoke.

He couldn't help the little pulse of happiness when he heard his given name fall from her lips so effortlessly.

"Hey." He grabbed his undershirt and slipped it on. "Want company?"

"Sure. I'm almost done. Just a couple more sentences." He settled next to her on the couch and placed his palm against the nape of her neck, under her hair. He stroked lightly, just needing the contact. Her eyes closed briefly and she tipped her head back to push into his touch.

They were silent as she typed, scrolled back, edited. He had no idea how much time was passing. He could watch her like this forever. She was writing, doing what he loved, but he knew what she was writing was more meaningful than any of his own novels had been as he was typing them out. In this moment, despite the sad reason for her task, he envied her. Her words had weight. He would hear them tomorrow and remember sitting her with her as she created them. When she clicked to save the document and close it, she finally turned to look at him.

"I think I could sleep now." She looked tired, but the corners of her mouth turned up as she closed her computer and set it on the table. "Back to bed?" She stood and held out her hand. He took it and kissed her knuckles before standing.

"Sure. And I won't even haul you off like a caveman this time." She pulled him into a hug and tipped her head back to look up at him. He ran his hands up and down the planes of her back and she gave him a wry grin.

"So you do have the capacity to learn from your mistakes." His heart skipped a beat, but he tried not to let the twinge of fear show on his face. He didn't want that word associated with anything that had occurred tonight. He kept his tone even and light.

"Except that I would hardly call that last trip to your bedroom a mistake. I like that shirt on you, by the way." He was simultaneously making sure she wasn't regretting their earlier actions and giving her an out if she was.

"No, just the mode of transportation, my paranoid Neanderthal. I guess the ends can justify the means just this once. And yeah," she shrugged her shoulders slightly, "it's comfy. It smells like your cologne."

He leaned in for a soft and thorough kiss, pouring his relief into the connection.

He stopped in the bathroom on his way back to her bed, and when he climbed back in, she was facing the opposite wall, still and seemingly asleep. But as he pulled the covers over himself, she scooted back until she was flush against him. He wrapped his arm around her waist, finding that she'd exchanged his button-down for a soft cotton camisole. He reached up to smooth her hair over the pillow above her head and nuzzled his nose against her neck. He felt her relax back against him and it struck, him not for the first time tonight, how well they fit together. He could get used to this.

This time he stayed awake until he felt her breathing even out. When he was sure she had fallen asleep, he quietly whispered against her skin.

"I love you, Kate."

**A/N: Despite the fact that this is a missing scene from the end of season 3, I maintain that it IS possible this could have happened. The way they never talk about anything, I wouldn't be surprised if they hadn't mentioned it since then.  
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**-K. C.**


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